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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO S [ Day 1 | 1200hrs ] ALL ABOARD the Crazy Train!
Last post by TWilkins -
[ Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | Somewhere, hopefully, near the Conference Lounge | D.8 | V.2 | USS Theurgy ] @Ellen Fitz @JacenSoloDjo (@Dumedion)

Sylvain had never been an enormous fan of the unexpected.

With his psionic abilities as troublesome as they were, identifying the difference between what was cognition, and what was precognition, was a constant struggle; he’d gotten to a point in his life where he could accept that. After all, it was only logical that he’d get things confused every now and then, considering that every slight disturbance that touched his senses, every thought that crossed his mind, every impulse that wracked his body, all had to be considered as a potential premonition… Still, sometimes he got lucky, and he’d have a day where his thoughts, feelings and emotions all arrived in an orderly and expected fashion; it was far easier to identify the telltale signs of a precognitive event, when there weren’t any other unexpected feelings to be had.

But of course, he didn’t often get his way with such things.

Despite making every conceivable effort to try and keep things going according to plan, to have more days where his cognitive processes made perfect sense in his head, life had developed a tendency to throw the unexpected at him, and contrary to popular opinion, his precognitive abilities seldom gave him any meaningful warnings when something awry was heading his way. That would have been far too convenient. Instead, when the untoward did arrive, it was as much of a surprise to him, as it was to everybody else around him.

Worse, perhaps.

The unexpected was never less than ferocious. It never failed to wreak havoc on his carefully balanced emotions, never failed to play his impulses against him, never failed to barrage him with waves of new information that he suddenly had to deal with in an instant… On duty, he could contend with the unexpected. On duty, he had sensors, telemetries, the laws of physics; plenty of information available to him, data that could be used to react effectively to even the most harrowing of circumstances. Off duty, however, he didn’t have any sensors to rely on, and the laws of physics certainly didn’t have a chapter about the maelstrom of confusion that the unexpected tended to send billowing through his skull. Off duty, the things he wasn’t prepared for had a tendency to thunder into his life like an ion storm, disarming his shields and leaving him wide open, a perfect candidate for a boarding party of anxiety, doubt, paranoia, all the usual candidates; untoward thoughts and feelings that, because of their abruptness, became impossible to discern from premonitions, never failing to award him with that oh-so-lovely sensation, of not knowing whether his cognitive processes were meant for the now, or for the future.

So yes, Sylvain did not much enjoy the unexpected.

And yet, life did so enjoy throwing it at him.

The catalyst of recent events was an unexpected subspace transmission that had been received directly to his quarters, odd, certainly, but not immediate cause for concern... However, when he’d taken a closer examination of the message, seeing that it was in fact a heavily encrypted transmission from Rear Admiral Joseph Anderson, as opposed to a casual communique from his own mother, was a perfect example of how the unexpected liked to barrel into his life like a targ in a turbolift. Sylvain’s initial thought was that something dire had happened to his mother; that was the only possible connection that he and the Admiral shared, after all. Of course, the second such a thought had crossed his mind, he’d immediately assumed that it simply had to be precognitive in nature, and in his sudden rush of panic to activate the transmission, he’d pressed the wrong button, then dropped the PADD. And then tripped over his own feet.

Couldn’t have had a premonition to warn him about that… 

When he’d recovered from his brief first-contact mission with the bulkhead, he’d managed to hit the correct button and actually listen to the message, a turbulent sense of anxiety already billowing through his psyche in anticipation of what the Admiral would possibly have to tell him. It was a horrible fact indeed, that receiving notification of something ill befalling his mother, would have been better news, than what he had actually received. If Sylvain had thought he’d been in a delicate state upon receiving the transmission, words could not describe how he felt when he’d finished listening to it.

Extra-dimensional parasites infesting the upper echelons of Starfleet Command, hell-bent on causing nothing short of all-out war with every neighbouring power. An immediate and essential need to request a leave of absence, to vehemently avoid joining up with task force Archeron at all costs, for his own safety. The details of a transport arrangement that would take him from the nearest starbase, to the very same rebel ship that he’d spent that entire morning being briefed on with the rest of the Senior Staff… They were all things that he was less than thrilled to be associated with, all things that felt so unfathomably unbelievable, that even from an Admiral’s mouth, Sylvain had found them almost impossible to take seriously...

Yet, Sylvain knew that Admiral Anderson had done his family a huge favour earlier in his life, and if the Admiral had seen fit to reach out to Sylvain over something so absurd, he wasn’t going to do the man the disservice of ignoring it. Besides, Sylvain wasn’t one to disobey the direct order from a Senior Officer, an Admiral especially.

So Sylvain responded to the transmission, and even if he perhaps didn’t fully understand the circumstances, which he most certainly didn’t, he’d requested the personal leave from Captain Yume, download his personal file from the Bowman, packed up his few belongings, and departed for the nearest starbase, where had been picked up by a shuttle that had landed him in what was perhaps the worst environment in the galaxy, when it came to the unexpected. A Klingon vessel. Of course. One stray thought about a bat’leth within his first twenty minutes aboard, and he’d suddenly spent an entire week vividly obsessing over all of the ways his bunk mate might try to murder him. Oh, how he wished he could inflict such stress on some of those ignorant Cadets at the Academy, those who’d badgered him about how amazing it was that he could 'see the future'.


Yet finally, his stint aboard the IKS Internal Purgatory had concluded, and he was once again firmly grounded against the bulkheads of a Federation starship. Well, pseudo-Federation starship, he supposed, given that he was about to begin serving on a vessel that had been declared as undesirable number one by pretty much the entirety of Starfleet. Still, in a vacuum, it was a pretty good posting, all things considered.

He’d read up on the Theurgy-class vessels of course, but seeing it in person was all the more spectacular… A multivector Dreadnaught, regenerative shielding, ablative hull armour, a sustainable cruise velocity of warp factor 9.995… One of the biggest vessels Starfleet had ever built. Still, he tried to temper his excitement, fully aware that his position aboard the Theurgy would never involve actually piloting such a mighty vessel; a state of the art navigation lab was probably the destination for him, which he was certainly not going to complain about.

Instead, Sylvain drew his attention away from the window that he’d been plastered to for the last few minutes, and mentally attempted to refocus his attention on actually finding the conference room where he was supposed to be meeting with a member of the Theurgy’s Senior Staff. He’d really been hoping to avoid any major embarrassments, at least for his first forty-eight hours aboard the ship, and getting lost on the way to his first meeting as a member of the USS Theurgy crew, was not a good start to that goal.

Unfortunately, the directions that the transporter officer had given him had been, lukewarm at best, and despite being fully aware that he was on the correct deck, the turbolift had confirmed it after all, Sylvain was keenly conscious of the fact that he’d only been on the vessel for about seventeen minutes, and he’d already probably gotten himself lost…

So as soon as his eyes had caught sight of the woman with the backpack, Sylvain had felt a surge of relief rush into his chest. He was fairly certain that he recognised her from the Vask'at, Mac-something, he seemed to recall? Truthfully, all of his memories from aboard the Klingon ship were somewhat hazy, probably on account of having spent most of the time concerned that he’d might have had a premonition about his bunk-mate bisecting him... Either way, she had a backpack and wasn’t in uniform, just like himself, which was a fair indicator that she was also a new arrival to the ship, and therefore likely to be reporting to the same location that he was due in, so spotting her in the labyrinth of corridors had been a real salve for his brewing anxiety.

He’d made a beeline for her position, glad that he ignored the sudden and inappropriate urge to wave at her, considering that he wasn’t entirely sure that he knew who she was… Sylvain’s eyes left the corridor that he’d just watched the woman disappear down, and set his attention instead, to searching for the room that she had just exited, the Ensign increasing his pace as he approached it, doing his best to fight of the sudden wave of anxiety that started to swirl in his gut… Not a premonition, he told himself firmly. Doing everything in his power to not let such things distract him, he’d carefully passed the security officer to his right with an awkward attempt at a smile, and progressed through into what he sincerely hoped to be the conference room, practically gleeful with relief when he saw the Vulcan tactical officer poised on the other side of the table.

Finally, he breathed a short sigh of relief.

“My sincerest apologies if I’m late, Commander; this is a much bigger ship than I’m used to. The Bowman only had a crew complement of about one-hundred and fifty, so I…” He began, acknowledging the pips on the man’s collar and addressing him as such, before acknowledging that he’d apparently seen fit to delve into his life’s story before so much as introducing himself to the man… “Gosh I’m-I’m so sorry, where are my manners…” He interrupted himself, awkwardly hovering near the doorway to the room, still somehow convinced that he might be in the wrong place, certainly not comfortable enough to take a seat without being given a definitive offer to do so.

“My name is Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth… That is, Ensign Llewellyn-Kth.” He paused briefly, keenly aware of the warmth rising upon his face, and conscious that he was rapidly making a fool out of himself in front of a superior Officer. Did he mention that Admiral Anderson went to school with his mother? Did he tell the man that he was a CONN Officer and he might have accidentally cheated in all of his academy examinations? Did he tell the man that he’d played a gender-bent version of Nurse Chapel in the Starfleet Academy Theatre Society’s 2377 production of Subspace Rhapsody? Sylvain mentally scolded himself for allowing such an inopportune barrage of intrusive thoughts to flood his mind, forcing himself to straighten up, quelling any modicum of anxiety that threatened to appear on his face; this was duty now, and duty, he could manage.

“Reporting for duty, Sir, whatever I can do to help, I’m all ears.”

It was only after the words had left his mouth, that his mind saw fit to recognise that a turn of phrase regarding ears, was perhaps not the best choice of words when it came to addressing a Vulcan.

Again, why couldn’t his precognitive abilities have warned him about that
Director's Cut / Re: 2370 | Starfleet Intelligence is an Oxymoron Right?
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
[Analyst Quarters | 2370 | Deep Space 18]

Kath was woken up two hours before her next shift, her partner's eyes wide.

"Valkyrie, wake the fuck up. Something big is going down in Cardassian space!" Alryn Cooke, a half-Vulcan hissed. She had learned very quickly the man embraced his human side a lot more than his Vulcan side.

She squinted sleepily at him for a moment. A pointy-eared man with an edge of fear in his eyes was disquieting.

"What is it? Are we even supposed to be monitoring Cardassian Space?" she asked through a yawn. She still kinda hated his nickname for her. She did not know that she would 'grow into it' soon enough.

He shook his head then snorted before backing up to give her room to sit up and roll out of bed.

"We aren't. The Klingons are concerned about it. So are the Romulans. Apparently some group called the Maquis has started harrying the Cardassians."

Kath stifled another yawn as she padded to the replicator to get a cup of coffee-and-chicory.

"Good for them. The Cardies deserve it," she said before taking a sip of her perfectly hot drink.

"The Maquis is made up of a lot of Starfleet deserters," Alryn pointed out. That got Kath's attention.

"Fucking-- Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! One of them is Chakotay!"

Katherine quaffed the rest of her coffee at that news. She had met him during ATT, but he hadn't been her instructor. Things had to be complicated for him to hang up his commission.

"Have you told Pav?" she asked, ordering a refill of her drink from the replicator as she pulled on her uniform jacket.

"Who do you think told me to wake you? There are a bunch of Bajorans in the Maquis, too. You're on deck."

Fun. At least her brain would be getting a workout soon.

"Alright. Alright. Let's go," she assented, grabbing her refilled mug from the replicator then following out of the room on Alryn's heels, her uniform jacket not fully zipped up.
Director's Cut / [2370-2373] | Deep Space 18: Starfleet Intelligence is an Oxymoron Right?
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
[Security Office | 2370 | USS Augusta]

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?" Katherine MacFarlane's voice cracked like lightning in the security office where she had been summoned and told, rather stiffly, that she was to report to Deep Space 18.

"You heard me just fine, MacFarlane," the Chief of Security of the USS Augusta said dryly. "And it isn't me, it's Intelligence asking for you."

"Yeah, but... I'm not even... I'm just a grunt," Kath retorted. Yeah, okay, so she was rather good at firing a weapon and had gone above and beyond on her cadet cruise, to say nothing of the Federation-Cardassian War but. Intelligence? Starfleet Intelligence? They couldn't possibly be serious about recruiting her.

"Be that as it may, you can't turn down the assignment. Your runabout is waiting for you in Docking Bay 3. I suggest you not be late, it takes off in ten minutes with or without you."

Her father's advice to always have a bug-out bag packed mockingly echoed in her head. Ten minutes to pack? Good thing most of her stuff was things she could send for later if not things she would just say to recycle.

"Yes, sir," she said, defeated.

"Good luck," her commanding officer of four years said to her retreating back.

"Hardly fair to give me such a short amount of time," she muttered under her breath. Just enough time to grab her bag and then hoof it to the runabout. She made it there with a minute and a half to spare. The positives of always being on alert for a sudden move.

[Starfleet Intelligence Office | Deep Space 18]

"Lieutenant MacFarlane. Quite prompt. Good start," the commanding officer in charge of DS18's SFI branch said as soon as Kath stepped foot inside.

"Did my father put you up to this? Because, I swear, I didn't want--" Kath began, not even putting her bag down first. Her whole career had been spent worrying that her father being posted at Starfleet Headquarters mattered more to people than her own abilities as an officer.

"Your father? Oh. No. Captain MacFarlane has nothing to do with this. In fact, you're not cleared to talk about your posting while you're here. From this point on, you are an analyst for Starfleet Intelligence but your cover is working as a guard for the munitions room," the woman, Commander Pavlichenko, said.

Talk about pretending to be demoted to a simple guard of a room.

"Please, sit. We have more to discuss about your specific duties as an analyst here on Deep Space 18," Pavlichenko said after Kath had a moment to process the news.

Carefully Kath took a seat, as if afraid it would disappear out from under her or otherwise attack her.

"While you're here, we need your linguistics skills and decryption skills for monitoring our former allies of the F-C War," Pavlichenko explained. She walked to her replicator nearby and ordered up two coffees. She handed one to Kath. The young lieutenant took it automatically, still trying to chew on 'monitoring our former allies'.

"I'm sorry, you want me to... spy on... who exactly?"

"The Betazoids, the Klingons, the Romulans, whoever pops up on your feed."

She shouldn't be surprised that Starfleet Intelligence was well aware of her fluency in Klingonese.

"Why not the Trill, too?" she couldn't help snarking.

Pavlichenko fixed her with a look that told her that her humor was unappreciated. Whoops. Not a good start with her new boss. Her excuse was being so damn thrown by the idea of suddenly being Starfleet Intelligence property.

"You will report on movements in this sector and any chatter that could give us an edge. If you're in doubt of the importance, write it down anyway. Your gut will likely be right."

An edge? Was Starfleet somehow planning to strike first for no reason? Her brows furrowed. Was she going to end up feeling so dirty that no shower would make her feel clean again?

"I assume I can't say 'no'?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"We both know you aren't someone who says 'no' to protecting the best interests of the Federation," Pavlichenko replied, exactly how Kath had predicted.

What really pissed her off was the older woman was right.
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1700hrs] Cross on the Titan
Last post by Krajin -
[ Dominic Winters | Lower Gymnasium | Vector 2 | Deck 14 | The Ranger ATTN: @Ellen Fitz

Dominic geared up as Cross explained his situation some more. “Touch telepathy can be quite fun I wager. You can do the Vulcan neck pinch and actually pull it off.” He said with a grin. He slipped his gloves on and put some head protection on in case they went for head blows and shin guards. “No shots to the groin or else I take it very personally.” He warned and balled his hands to fists and tapped them together.

“I reckon given time you’ll be able to adapt to the Vulcan genetics well. As for the culture.. Well. Genetics play only a small part in our cultures, just look at me.” He shifted his weight slightly as Cross came in to strike with a leg sweep. His ears naturally through sheer reflex pinned to the sides of his head for protection. When the leg sweep came in he let it make contact and swept his leg with it to the side, shifting his balance to the other foot with his tail acting as an added counter to his balance. It threw his center of balance off enough for a moment that he had to adjust his footing and as the cross punch came in, he parried the punch with one forearm towards the outside and returned fire with a quick and light punch with the other towards Cross’ Torso to try and disrupt his own rhythm of attack. Then followed it up with a quick turn for a feint with a leg sweep which was to mask a quick tail sweep that followed right behind it!
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO S [ Day 1 | 1200hrs ] ALL ABOARD the Crazy Train!
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
[Conference Lounge | Deck 8 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] ATTN: @TWilkins‍ @Ellen Fitz‍ // @Dumedion‍ 

There was a wry smile there on her face that did not reach her eyes. She had, more than once, run into people who questioned the medals and why she didn't seem to actually care. What she cared about was the people who hadn't survived to earn their own. And indeed, why wasn't she chasing the same line of upward mobility as her father? Because mainly she feared being taken and plopped behind a desk, was usually her answer. She had also run into more than one chickenshit in her career who had earned nothing but thought it made them better to be a higher rank through some dirty dealing. No. Much better to be a Lieutenant in the field than an Admiral behind a desk. Captaincy maybe some day in her future, but not right away. She still had quite a lot of career to get through. But if the pattern that showed in her dossier held, perhaps a promotion was on the horizon if not a change of position giving her more authority. Wars and crisis always had a tendency to provide people with those kinds of changes since time immemorial. (Admittedly, one day she did hope for more responsibility but actually verbalizing those hopes could backfire in any number of ways.)

Internally she raised a brow at the mention of Hauq and Qo'Nos. Hmm. Outwardly she simply nodded slightly. She may or may not have to poke at some old SFI files before the big exciting meeting, as well. Just to refresh her memory, though she forgot little sometimes small details could be overlooked or slip away without constantly needing to know them. "Muy bien. I'll make a note of them for later," she intoned. Might be good to check-in with Madsen, at the very least, her training reminded her. 

The brunette nodded as she noted Cross's gaze go from her to somewhere over her shoulder. As she hadn't heard the door actually open she didn't feel a need to turn and look even if the little paranoid voice inside of her urged it. She rose from her seat so smoothly it almost looked like Kath had teleported into a standing position; one millisecond she was sitting and the next she was snapped to attention. The chair didn't even make a single noise as she pushed it back from the table. 

"I'm sure I'll come up with something eventually. When things are a little less hectic," she admitted. She didn't qualify 'little less hectic'. Times like these, it was all relative, wasn't it? At least there had been no quizzing about her relatives. Ahh, wordplay. 

One scarred hand grabbed her bag and she easily swung it over one shoulder. Her stance was so strong she didn't wobble as the bag slapped her in the back audibly. Maybe she would have a bit of time to unpack, or at the very least use up replicator raw material to build the specific decorations she could already see fitting the ship she found herself on. Good thing uniforms were mostly wrinkle resistant, as she hated replicating them even if it gave her space for other items when she went to a new posting and so kept them in her bag, neatly rolled up at the top of her bag for quick retrieval. 

She then went out the door, passing the next crewman with a polite nod, and stepped into the turbolift once it arrived. Less than an hour to get settled and refresh on all the intel she would need. Not a problem. She had had tighter turnarounds. 
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: [2376] Entanglement of Chaos
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Ens. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Safe House | Cardassia Prime ] ATTN: @RyeTanker

Enyd refrained from rubbing her temples as the Cardassian and Starfleet personnel argued around her. She’d given them Ontatt’s requirements, and, as expected, an argument broke out. Superiors were contacted and put on audio to likewise join the argument. Leaning against the wall adjacent to the door leading to Zark and Ontatt, Enyd sighed. If they could just stop measuring penile lengths, they could actually accomplish something.

“Very well,” Ghin Torlan’s gruff voice tinged with finality pulled Enyd from her thoughts, “we agree to these new terms.” The ghin glanced at Javec, waiting until the aide mirrored his action of giving a firm nod before gesturing toward Ontatt’s door. “The fucker is held at a neutral location, guarded by Starfleet and Cardassian forces; the security code to enter the location is kept only by the Castellan and the head of Starfleet stationed on Cardassia.”

Before Enyd could move to convey the information to Zark or Ontatt, a plain clothes officer left to do that very thing. She nibbled her lower lip, thinking over Ontatt’s intel so far before raising her hand in an old-fashioned manner to get attention.

“So then the mission to infiltrate the financiers will likewise be a joint operation?” She made eye contact with all those present though her question was directed towards her CDO, still currently on the line.

[ Yes, once Ontatt is sufficiently secured and made ‘happy’ enough to give us the rest of the intel, a joint operation will be conducted between the Castellan’s choice operative and our own. ]

Enyd frowned. She didn’t like the sounds of that, if only because it sounded like she was getting grounded. Now was not the time to argue with her superior, though, and while Javec gave her a look that made her think he was getting the same feeling, he wisely kept his mouth shut and remained on his side of the room.

The plain clothes officer returned to the main room then, Ontatt in tow, Zark close behind. Enyd caught the Andorians gaze and shook her head. They had much to talk about later, in a more private setting. A few more arrangements were made before a few plain clothes departed alongside Torlan’s men, Ontatt and the disgruntled Ompayan, in tow. Enyd, Zark, Javec, and the remaining members of the original team and the plain clothes were left behind, awaiting transport vehicles to take them to their species correct bases.

Still not feeling they had enough privacy to offer Zark apologies or explanations, Enyd sat beside her new friend, occasionally reaching out, brushing her hair away from a bruised cheek and offering other little physical affections.

[ Some hours later ]

Showered, cleared by medical, and dressed once more in her normal uniform, Enyd was not at all surprised when the CDO called her into his office. The glare he gave her was a bit of a surprise, considering they’d been successful in apprehending Ontatt and, apparently through Ontatt, had uncovered a deeper plot that still threatened the Cardassian rebuilding efforts.

“Why are you even a diplomat, Madsen?” When he spoke, the officer sounded older than his physical age. “Your shenanigans reek of Intelligence efforts. Were you rejected from Intelligence and opted for diplomacy as a backup? Figured you could talk your way out of a galactic incident using diplomacy only after you used your wiley ways to gain access to information otherwise best handled by Intelligence operatives?”

Enyd smiled despite the man’s frustration, “You’re not far off base, sir. My grandmother forbade me to enter Intelligence after both my parents died in the line of duty. Figured diplomacy was the other side of the same coin, with a lot of overlap occurring for mutual success.”

“You’re not in the least bit sorry for what’s happened, are you?” He stared at her, nearly gape-mouthed. “How have I managed to overlook your audacious nature until now?”

“I AM sorry for the loss of life, sir. Many good Cardassians died getting this information and in getting Ontatt. But as I see it, sir, many more may have been given another lease on life now that we have these leads to follow-up on. If I’m not mistaken, sir, my job as a diplomat is to represent and protect Starfleet interests and Federation citizens through facilitating strategic agreements, promoting trade, and fostering alliances. Within these parameters, I believe it is necessary to step out on occasion to create negotiation opportunities.” Enyd shifted her weight onto her heels a moment. “And I do not wish Ensign Zark to be penalized for assisting me, sir. She was assigned to keep an eye on me, as we both know, and I misled her into joining me on this last mission. She is a professional and should not be held back on account of my actions.”

Her CDO groaned, breaking eye contact long enough to scrub both hands over his tired-looking features.

“I don’t know what galls me more, that you somehow continue to get things accomplished that do, in fact, benefit Starfleet and the Cardassian efforts to rebuild, or that I can’t force you to sit out this next misssion.” Enyd’s eyes widened and she actively fought the urge to beam. Her CDO caught the subtle emotional tell and glared. “Before you get too excited, listen to what I have to say…”

[ Corridor outside Ensign Zark’s quarters ]

Enyd gave an old-school hand knock against the door. She’d already checked with medical and Zark should be in her quarters by now. However, considering the woman hadn’t answered her console chimes and now the banging, Enyd wondered if she was passed out from pain meds or off on her own mission.

“Zark! I’ve got news! Let me in!”
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO S [ Day 1 | 1200hrs ] ALL ABOARD the Crazy Train!
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Cmdr. Cross | Conference Lounge | D. 8 | V. 2 | USS Theurgy ] ATTN: @JacenSoloDjo @TWilkins (@Dumedion since hottie Hauq was mentioned)

“Of the battle veterans on board, I cannot think of a one who has ever willingly worn the medals in public or shown them off like it was some primary school show-and-tell day. Fuck, if there were folks like that on board now? They’d have been humbled by circumstances into keeping a lid on such things. And you’re completely correct, if not you then someone else. At least, that’s the ideal we want on this ship. Just because we are operating outside of official Starfleet sanctions doesn’t mean we’re going to get lax on keeping up with training. Knowing that your squad mate is up to par with their training gives that little extra boost of confidence when facing the types of odds we’ve been facing. And that you’ve faced before.” Cross reached up, scratching behind his ear. “In my experience, people who want leadership and roles of influence are likely the last who should be in those positions. From where I’m sitting, your lack of interest or enthusiasm to throw clout around with the younger crew is precisely why you’ll do fine keeping an eye on them.”

MacFarlane seemed to pick up on his sarcasm without difficulty and responded in kind. Cross smiled. She would fit in nicely with the old guard while bringing in the much-needed new blood. When she asked about specific chatter for trouble, Cross’ smile fell and he shook his head.

“Our chief diplomat, Madsen, has a firm contact within the IDF who has been keeping an eye on our people when they’re on Qo’Nos and who also feeds intel that may impact our position. Colonel Hauq is his name, and while I’ve never met the man, he’s proven himself trustworthy, if not typical Klingon charmingly cantankerous. He tends to come out of the shadows and melt back into them, so I can’t guarantee that he’ll be among Martok’s group when they come aboard later, but if you get a chance to meet up with him, he’d be the one who knows the most about any potential threats.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “And while she’s not in the Intelligence department, Madsen has a knack for discovering things and being in the middle of things, so she’d likely be another one to check in with, along with the Intelligence department as a whole. They’re on their game, good people.”

A blinking light at the door’s console alerted Cross that another new transfer was waiting in the corridor. While not wanting to rush MacFarlane, at the same time, he didin’t have time to dawdle.

“Good to know, lieutenant. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to discuss at this time, I believe you can dismiss to your quarters, get things settled, and then find a good window to watch the vectors separate. The Ranger will be getting underway in about an hour or less.”
Main OOC Board / Re: Main OOC Thread
Last post by Brutus -


Everyone give a big welcome to @TWilkins, who is returning to the sim after a long absence with our new Chief CONN Officer!

  Ens. Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth                                     Chief CONN Officer

- Writer: @TWilkins

Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth was the Chief CONN Officer serving aboard the USS Bowman, a support vessel tasked with aiding Federation colonies along the border of Talarian space. When the Bowman was unexpectedly recalled in 2381, and redeployed to support Task Force Archeron, Sylvain was contacted by an old colleague of his mother’s, Rear Admiral Joseph Anderson, as part of a covert initiative to recruit capable Officers for the renegade starship, the USS Theurgy. The Admiral was concerned that if Sylvain was targeted by the Infested, his unique precognitive capabilities could be put to devastating use against the Theurgy’s efforts to prevent all out war. This and Sylvain’s exemplary, if not brief, service record, made him a suitable candidate to join the USS Theurgy Crew.

Sylvain will arrive during Episode 2. Our current Chief CONN Officer, Chief Warrant Officer Larrant, has been having technical issues with his pod. With the arrival of an experienced officer, he will make the decision to step down and return to his role as a navigational specialist.

Welcome aboard!


Welcome to Ellen's fourth character, Ehfva Feynri!

  Ehfva Feynri                                                             Civilian

- Writer: @Ellen Fitz

Vulpinian civilian Ehfva Feynri was onboard the USS Cayuga when it came under attack from the Savi Scion forces. Ehfva, her mate Intelligence Chief Petty Officer Keokuk, and the entire Cayuga crew were held captive by the Savi near the Hobus Star, where most met the same fate as their captain of being recycled by the Scions. She remained a tormented hostage, waiting for rescue! Ehfva has already entered the story in Chapter 4, The Remains of a Crew! If she survives her ordeal, Ehfva will return with the away team on the Erudite and arrive on the Theurgy at the end of the episode.

Welcome aboard!


As you might have noticed, we're very excited about killing off some NPCs during this episode! They sit around, take up space, breathe our air, and generally get in the way of new player characters. Everyone is welcome to take someone out in a blaze of glory! However, before you kill any established NPC, be it a former PC who's player left or an NPC who's always been an NPC, you must ask permission from the GMs.

Some of the NPCs have plot armor.

If you'd like to request a suit of armor (mage armor, death ward, full plate, etc.) for an NPC, you can ask one of the GMs!
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